


The Viability of a Legacy

by nadiavandyne



Series: TimKamala AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Marvel, Ms. Marvel (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But honestly that's not saying much, Canon has been butchered and thrown together into a plot that makes more sense then most comics, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Slash, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiavandyne/pseuds/nadiavandyne
Summary: There’s something about New Jersey that just attracts trouble. Whether it’s the clown in Gotham, the bird clone of Thomas Edison in Jersey City, or whatever mess is currently going down in Bludhaven, everyone knows that things get weird once you cross the state boundary.Kamala and Tim both started as fans of a hero, before becoming said hero's protege. Friendships have been built on less. Also, there's a sorceress, two types of zombies, and a few evil plots, but no one is really paying attention to that. After all, they are in New Jersey.





	The Viability of a Legacy

**After**

The window was flickering.

It shouldn’t, logically, be doing that. Windows into alternate realities were still, well, windows. Not security cameras, vulnerable to a hack or a well thrown rock, and not even regular windows flickered. Regular windows cracked and shattered- and this one shouldn’t have been flickering.

However, it was expected. Alarming, but expected. In places of high magical concentrations, where power was being used by someone without much experience, or by someone who was trying to bind a power that they could not control, reality could get a bit wonky. It only made sense that her view would get wonky as well.

It was _alarming_ that someone was using that much power. _Expected_ , this wasn’t her first rodeo, or even her tenth.

This world was fighting against her, trying to break her concentration, isolate itself from the multiverse. It wouldn’t work, but it was exhausting to counter.

The picture flickered, and when it appeared again, the girl was visible.

She didn’t stand out, not bright and gleaming as she could’ve been. In fact, she nearly faded completely into the background.

It was raining, in the other reality. Pouring. Magical, for sure. The sky cracked open with the force of the power, and the city appeared to be on its last legs. It wasn’t, of course, Trenton had taken worse, would take worse, but for the casual onlooker, the situation looked ugly. Every few seconds, thunder would shake the sky, and blinding white light would illuminate the area.

And in the illuminated area, you could see the girl.

She was young, 16, maybe 17. She had dark hair that was plastered to her face and neck, a blue domino mask that seemed like it was staying on via force of will. An inhibitor collar was visible around her neck, the red blinking light confirming it’s _on_ status. Her costume was _soaked_ with blood, the formally blue material taking on a dark red hue.

The window flickered, flashed, throwing her view through the rest of the city, images of sirens and rubble and monsters that were not supposed to exist.

It flashed back to the girl.

She flicked her hand out, zooming the picture in. Despite her appearance, the girl was holding herself steady, head up, face defiant. Behind her- _yes_

Behind the girl, shielded by her body, laid _him_. He was unconscious, cowl cracked, suit ripped. He was bleeding, but not as heavily as the girl was. The suit he wore in the other world wasn’t a bad thing, it was always good to have a hypothesis confirmed, but his existence in general did raise a few possible problems.

 _Possible_ problems. She wouldn’t know until she learned how this went down.

She brought the feed back out, ignoring the flickering, the voice in her mind that was _wailing_ , telling her to look away, to turn away. 

She could not interfere, but she could watch. She would watch.

The storm was providing excellent defense. It was a genius stand, a subtle, yet effective measure of protection. A powerful measure of protection.

There was one person who could pull this off. The subtle combination of weather and magic, protecting the reality, cutting off the effects from the rest of the Earth, well… 

If her theory was correct, it was exactly the bitter type of irony she’d always appreciated.

There were things you could do to wield off onlookers. Magic you could use to destabilize the tunnels between worlds. The rain protected her, protected her view, but it might not for long.

Whomever was responsible for this was putting a deadly amount of power into warding out interfering forces.

Unfortunately for them, being an interfering force had always been a _speciality_ of hers. A penchant of mischief that neither her brother nor her dropped.

Lightning crackled through the sky, and her view violently shuddered. In the seconds it took for the window to stabilize, she lost time in the other world, and the scene changed.

The girl’s face was still, the kind of stillness that can only come from telepathic attack. She was crying, thin sobs that left her body shaking. She did not blame the girl, years ago she likely would’ve had the same reaction. But the girl’s head was up, fighting whoever was in her mind, face twisted into a defiant snarl, jaw hard. Other then the tear tracks running through the grime on her face, and the almost miniscule twitches from her tears, she looks every _inch_ who she might grow up to be. 

Might. It depended on whether this is the right world, of course.

“Sometimes,” The girl said, breaking free from whatever was going on within her head. Her voice was barely audible over the thunder. Whoever was in her mind gave her enough power to speak, to fight back. An interesting choice. However, there’s no way for her to hear the conversation that occurring in the mind link. Holding onto the image of the universe is enough work as is. “Sometimes it just takes ONE person, one person who says NO, I CAN’T live with this on my conscious. I WON’T do this.”

The trademark yellow lightning bolt on the girl’s torso is barely visible though the blood she’s lost, and her healing factor is unable to help. That is… _bad_.

“Who you are doesn’t MATTER. What matters is what you DO, and all YOU have done is bring destruction and death.” She has one bloody hand clutched around her waist, attempting to slow down the bleeding. The other holds onto the forearm of the unconscious boy behind her. Not the most practical use of that hand, but a gesture of comfort to herself. A rock. She can’t blame the girl for that.

Seconds later she _flinched_ backwards, head shaking. Telepathic attacks, for sure. Any chance the girl may of had of keeping a magician of that power out of her head most likely died when the collar was snapped around her neck.

For minutes, it’s just the agonizing sound of far off screams and the storm that keeps her company. Attempting to listen in, to go within the girl’s mind, would be astonishingly stupid. She’s still tempted to try, though. 

“No,” The girl finally says through gritted teeth. She’s responding verbally to a telepathic conversation which is… different. Maybe she isn’t comfortable with someone in her head, or there’s another piece to the puzzle. Maybe it’s both discomfort and an unaccounted piece. Telepathy always takes a while to get used to. “The future is NEVER set in stone. I KNOW you’re wrong. You _miscalculated_.”

She paused. Closed her eyes. Took a breath in. Released it.

“You miscalculated. Dismissed something, _someone_ you shouldn’t of. Someone that isn’t a factor in whatever messed up future you came from, and so you assumed that they weren’t a factor in the past either. Because otherwise…”

A scream ripped out of the girl's throat, and she nearly said _fuck it_ to the rules of reality, nearly tore through the wards that kept her world safe, because there were things she wouldn’t watch, and the torture of a child was one of them. But the storm suddenly bounced up it’s power, sky nearly breaking open in two, and the girl pushed through the telepathic attacks before she could make her move. The girl looked up, past the window, to something that she was unable to view, and finished her sentence, words tumbling out of her mouth in a desperate, _relieved_ , jumble.

“Because if you hadn’t miscalculated, I’m pretty sure you’d of had enough sense to attack us a little farther away from Gotham.”

\-----

The Teen Titans

@OfficialTTitans

Hey Twitter! On Saturday 8th, we’ll be joining the cleanup crew in Pacific Heights around 1:00pm, and would love to see you there! -Wonder Girl

**Cleaning up super villain damage in San Francisco, and what that could mean…**

Super villain damage has always been catastrophic, and since the repeal of the Super-human…

usatoday.com

\-----

**Now**

For a place that was supposedly the hideout for some of the worst criminals in Jersey City, Geffen-Meyer Chemicals was surprisingly quiet.

Well, maybe not _surprisingly_ quiet. More like _worryingly_ quiet. If the plant wasn’t quiet, if it had been obvious that there were people here who did not belong, it would’ve meant that who Kamala feared was here, _wasn’t_. If the plant had been obviously harboring criminals, it would mean whoever decided to make it their secret headquarters was an amateur. Someone who Ms. Marvel could deal with easily. However, Geffen-Meyer’s was quiet, so either there wasn’t anyone doing anything wrong here, or her tip had been correct.

Kamala hoped it was the former. She had a feeling it was the latter.

“-and, honestly? Not looking forward to our LA test. I’ve studied, sure, but your school’s review pages are USELESS.” Kareem complained through her phone. His tone took on a falsetto with the last word, and Kamala resisted the urge to laugh. Technically, talking to someone about civilian matters while on patrol was dumb, but also technically, this stakeout had been _so boring_.

“You know, it’s currently your school too. It doesn’t just suddenly become MY school whenever it annoys you.” Kamala teased back, adjusting her position on the roof. The metal was cold behind her, and she was once again struck with the wish that she was unaffected by the cold. She probably should’ve chosen a comfier place, but the corner had the best view of the parking lot.

“Yes, it does.” Kareem said, dead serious. For about half a second, at least, before he huffed through the phone. “Fine, fine, OUR school needs to get better resources for students. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Kamala said dryly, but she was grinning to herself. 

“ANYWAY, that’s not why I was calling.” Kamala readjusted again, trying to find a slightly warm part of the metal. It wasn’t working. “I was wondering-”

A crash came through the phone, and Kamala jumped, hitting her head backwards on the wall. Her hands embiggened reactively, forming into fists, eyes scanning the area for the threat. Then Kareem let out a truly impressive amount of swears through the phone.

“I’m okay!” He yelled, presumably to someone else in the building. There was the sound of scuffling, then,

“Sorry,” Kareem said a minute later into the phone. Kamala exhaled, shrunk her hands back down, and settled back into her alcove, heart racing. She looked back to the parking lot, her eyes taking a moment to actually refocus in the dark. “I may of just knocked all my books of my bed. And my laptop. And myself.”

Kamala laughed quietly. Her heart was still racing. The threat was just Kareem’s clumsiness, not anyone around her. “ _Good_ job. Really, _great_ job there.”

Her heart wouldn’t calm down, which was part annoying and part terrifying.

“I am detecting sarcasm?” Kareem took a fake-offended breath. “How rude of you. Back in MY day-”

Kamala gave up trying to laugh quietly. “Oh, PLEASE no, I have heard that too many times. I think my ears will literally rupture if I hear it again.”

“Agreed.” He replied. “I will be _so_ happy if I never hear another ‘Back in my day’, you have _no_ idea. It seems to be a saying that transcends countries.” Kareem made an annoyed sounding sigh through the phone. “Okay, so, universal sayings aside, I was actually wondering-”

The door to one of the office buildings swung open. Kamala’s laughter died in her throat.

“SHHHH!” Kamala shushed him, leaning forwards, making sure to stay out of sight. Thankfully, Kareem shut up immediately. She fished her binoculars out of her bag, and quickly adjusted them to get a better view. 

There were three people, one guy, two girls. The first girl was pale, bald, wearing a black suit, and holding what looked like keys. The second girl had dark skin, and dark hair, a bit longer then Kamala’s. She wore a purple suit, and was holding a unmarked briefcase. The guy followed a few steps behind them, black hair that was a little too long, nice suit, and was using forearm crutches. They probably weren’t Hydra, considering that Hydra preferred their members white and able-bodied, but considering how late it was, it was pretty suspicious. Probably. She maybe should’ve actually researched exactly what petrochemical plants actually _did_ , and what kind of hours their workers would keep.

Oh well. Too late now.

“Sorry K, gotta go, Marvel business.” Kamala hissed under her breath, hanging up the phone with a flick of her thumb, and shoving it into her bag, along with the binoculars. She should probably get pockets on her costume sometime soon. She stood up as quietly as possible, and used the shadows to her advantage, easily clearing the fence by extending her her legs, and got closer. She stayed far enough away that they’d have to be superhuman to hear her, but luckily, they seemed to be having a conversation. 

Ms. Marvel set her bag down behind a wall, took a deep breath, and shrunk down. Being bug-sized was always an interesting experience. Slightly terrifying, definitely nausea inducing (The streets of Jersey City got _so_ much grosser when miniscule), and somewhat cool. Overall, an interesting way to spend time.

She took off, heading towards the parking lot, elongating her legs so it didn’t take her an entire hour to get there. If there was one thing she’d learned as Ms. Marvel, it was that the moment you were a few feet below or above a person, you basically disappeared. If she was small and quick, if she stayed silent, she was invisible. 

“You do something like that again, and I’ll let you deal with PR the next time your father does something stupid.” Ms. Marvel stopped, finding a shadow to wait in. The dark haired girl was speaking, one eyebrow raised, mouth twisted. And, _wow_.

Upon closer inspection, that was a _nice_ suit that the girl was wearing. Kamala might not care much about fashion, but she’d spent enough time around Mr. Stark to be able to see when something was made of money. That suit was like a Pepper Potts suit. Not a Rescue armor suit, but a ‘I’ve managed Stark Industries, the public image of the Avengers, and Tony Stark for the last decade, do you REALLY want to try me’ suit. She’d even had to wear a suit like that, during the one very memorable occasion where she ended up having to hold a press conference for Ms. Potts, _as_ Ms. Potts. (There were hired killers and revenge plots involved. It was an interesting weekend.) But those suits were _nerve wracking_ to be in, they were so nice. She hadn’t tripped while wearing it, but it had been on her mind all evening. (Along with the whole hired killer thing. Not even a nice suit could have her forget that.)

“That sounds like hell, T, please don’t.” The boy said. He had crossed in front of her, and was half leaning against a car. He was freakishly pale, the kind of pale that came from a severe lack of sunshine. However, he was _sorta kinda really hot_. In a overworked college student way. Which Kamala was not aware she liked, but you learn new things every day.

Except, he wasn’t a college student. There was no way he was much older then her, not with that face. Which was, again, kind of freaky.

Well, not his face. It wasn’t an unattractive face, definitely not. It was a very good face. The freaky part was just plain weirdness. A feeling. A image that reminded her of something she couldn’t quite place. There was something here that was reminding her of a past experience.

The problem was that she couldn’t figure out what was raising her hackles or what said past experience was.

He looked… tired. Blank. Something else.

A wisp of a memory floated at the edge of her mind. She couldn’t pin it down.

She hated it when her subconscious made an obvious connection and didn’t let the rest of her brain in on the answer. It was her brain, it should do what she wanted it to do.

Unfortunately, that’s not how brains worked.

The boy, well, he had an almost hard to look at face. Too tired, too stressed but also… off. Something was off. He was attractive, he had enough babyface that there was no way he was much older then she was, but it was just wrong. No real way to articulate it except for wrong. His hair fell in his face (Cute), but he looked about three seconds away from collapsing (Not so cute). Someone had taken a swing at the guy’s jaw recently, and although it was covered with makeup, Kamala was used to finding injuries when someone was hiding them. _Cough, cough, stop hiding your injuries from your team, Nova_. _Cough, cough._

“Wait, how much does the PR department hate us?” The boy asked suddenly. He appeared to be slowly transferring more and more of his weight as he leaned further on the car, but considering whatever kind of injury he had that made it so he needed those braces, Ms. Marvel didn’t blame him.

“Let’s put it this way,” The first girl said. “When someone asks Mr. Wayne how he got that new scar on his arm, and Mr. Wayne says it was from a whip during his trip to Taiwan, the trip to Taiwan that _didn’t even exist_ , PR has a few problems on their hands. Especially when Vale is involved. And she is ALWAYS involved.” The bald girl immediately started snickering. The boy looked like he was considering ways to put one of his crutches through his heart. 

“I mean, considering all the shit you guys get up to in your free time, that’s not the weirdest thing that he could’ve said.” The bald girl said, raising an eyebrow. 

This was sounding increasingly like the conversations she’d overhear between Clint and the rest of the Avengers whenever he did something stupid. Kamala still hadn’t been able to pry out the whole ‘Agent Barton acquired wings’ story from Natasha. Or the ‘bus incident’ story. However, she had figured out that whenever SHIELD said something was a gas explosion, they were most definitely lying. And that ‘gas explosion’ was an explanation frequently used when SHIELD/Clint got in over their heads, and explosions started happening. Which was all the time.

“Hey, it’s still hilarious, though. Thank god you’re smart enough to keep your bad decisions away from the reporters. Usually.” The bald girl continued. Then paused.

“Okay, sometimes.” 

The dark haired girl shook her head. The boy looked like he was calculating what angles would kill him instantly if he bashed his head on the car. Or Kamala just had an overactive imagination and was projecting on him.

“Rarely?” She offered. The dark haired girl mouthed something that Ms. Marvel couldn’t quite make out, and the bald girl’s eyebrows raised, mouth twisting into a pained expression. Yeah, she wasn’t projecting. That was a face of regret.

“Nevermind, I retract that statement.” The bald girl said seconds later, grimace twisting her face. The dark haired girl grinned, rocking backwards until she was balancing on her heels. It was both impressive and terrifying.

“ _Thank you_ , Pru. _Really_.” Despite the sarcastic tone, the words sounded almost… affectionate? Maybe not affectionate exactly, but definitely not antagonistic. The kind of voice that Aamir would sometimes use with her, when he was annoyed but not actually angry.

“I speak the truth, Birdy.” Bald girl-Pru! Pru! Pru said, a cocky smile on her face. Finally, an actual name. Alright, Pru.

Pru was the tallest of the three, but not by much. The boy would probably be around her height if he wasn’t using crutches. She looked to be the eldest of the group, maybe early-to-mid twenties, and wore cross earrings. She was also wearing a most likely very expensive suit, and had a black device in her left ear. A comm, maybe? 

“Well, if you want to keep avoiding the PR department, I’d really suggest not pulling that stunt again. Maybe even resting some, in between meetings. Not much, of course, we can’t be crazy here, but some, perhaps?” The girl asked, but it sounded more like a firm suggestion. A very firm suggestion. She rocked back onto the balls of her feet, head tilting sideways.

Pru laughed, not snickered, full out _laughed_ at that. “Foxy, you’d have better luck getting him to become a crime lord and take over Gotham. Hell, you’d probably have better luck getting him to set a new world record for hours awake. The only time he’ll sleep is when he literally passes out and falls of the side of a building or something.”

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say. The boy stiffened, the dark haired girl sucked in an audible breath, and the bald girl winced, obviously regretting her previous statement.

“Okay, fuck off.” The boy’s voice dropped, something low and angry seeping in. It was… unsettling. He made an aborted attempt to cross his arms, before seeming to realize that wasn’t an option. “I can rest. I’ve rested before. I’m not STUPID enough to be a _liability_.” 

Pru and Foxy(?) exchanged a look. The boy took a breath and looked down, focusing on the ground. Ms. Marvel hadn’t been watching them for long enough to have any idea what the exchanged look meant. However, it almost certainly wasn’t a happy look.

She liked her job a lot better when it was less spying, and more actual action.

“Sorry,” The boy said, after a moment. He looked up at Pru, and Kamala had the sudden feeling that there were definitely some unresolved problems that were rearing their heads. It felt like a conversation she shouldn’t be listening to. She kept listening anyway. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I’m just-”

“Tense,” The girl finished for him. “It’s fine, Tim. Really. However, I was hoping for a few peaceful nights, so if you could refrain from making the news?”

Tim! His name was Tim. Tim half smiled, a _really cute smile, damn_ , and nodded. He held himself Fury on a bad day, but it was a cute smile. Which was, honestly, kind of a new low for her, attraction wise. But cute smiles were cute, and whatever. Problem for a later date. Or never. “Sure, but if you think you’re gonna get a peaceful night in Gotham, we don’t live in the same city.”

The tension was still there, in the jerky movements, the careful choosing of words.

Youch. 

“Don’t crush my dreams, I manage your company.” The car beeped, and the girl went around the side, hitting a button to open the car doors. She swung the briefcase in the back,

Pru didn’t say anything, but she reached over, lightly punching Tim’s shoulder. “I call shotgun,” She said, crossing behind the car. 

Ms. Marvel inched a bit closer. Unless she wanted to follow the car, this meeting/spy session was almost over. But she could jot down the license plate, track the car later.

Befriending FRIDAY had made her cases so much easier. Also, having an AI for a friend was just super cool, period.

“Nope!” The girl said, pushing Pru away. “You’re driving, because I’m exhausted, and Tim got shot.”

“Fuck yes,” Pru said.

“I got GRAZED.” Tim said.

“You nearly BLED OUT during a board meeting.” 

“That’s a gross exaggeration.”

“You PASSED OUT when you attempted to stand up!”

“CAR.” Pru said, hoisting herself into the driver's seat. The door slid shut automatically behind her. Tim sighed, before making his way to the passengers seat. The girl jumped in the back, _she was wearing heels whatttt how do you jump in heels_ , and moments later, the car took off, heading out of the lot.

Well, getting shot definitely was the kind of injury that could require crutches like that.

Ms. Marvel considered following the car for half a second, before pulling out her phone, quickly typing down the plates in her notes, and then realizing the time. She had to get home soon, or get grounded. And getting home was preferable to getting grounded. Also, she should probably call Kareem back. And see if FRIDAY could track the plates she’d put down.

But-

There was something off about this entire situation. She should investigate more-

No. Rest was important. For all she knew it could’ve been just a weird coincidence with weird people. 

Plus, it was Wednesday night. And Wednesday night meant that the 70s AU Avengers fanfiction she was reading should’ve already updated.

 _Yes_. The cliffhanger in the last chapter had been the _worst_.

(Coincidences didn’t happen in her line of work. There was still the business with the whole ‘KIND’ thing that she hadn’t made any progress on. But… Rest was important. Jersey City would live. Hopefully. She’d look into it more tomorrow)

Kamala became normal sized again, brushing off whatever she picked up when being tiny, before embiggening her legs, and heading back across the city. It had been a good night, not too many bruises, and despite her tip, she ran into zero Hydra agents. She hit Kareem’s number, and allowed herself to grin as she started back home.

Before, of course, hearing a scream. Well, getting home could wait until whoever that was got home safe as well.

\-----

Daily Mail Celebrity

@DailyMailCeleb

Tam Fox looks stunning in a casual monochrome suit while on a date with fiance, Tim Wayne

**Tam Fox looks stunning in monochrome while on a date with fiance, Tim Wayne**

Tam Fox, 19, and Tim Wayne, 17, were spotted in Jersey City having a semi-casual date, just

weeks after the vicious attempt on Wayne’s life.

dailymail.co.uk

\-----

“How many beanies do you own?”

Kamala grinned, throwing her head backwards. Gabe stood to her left side, half leaning on the counter, fingers drumming a steady beat on the wood. They were waiting for Gabe’s fancy latte to arrive. Kamala’s coffee was already there, because she had gotten a nice, simple drip coffee.

“You do NOT want to know that answer, Hillman.” She said, adjusting her hat. Today’s beanie was Superman themed, and not staying on her head as well as she wanted it to. 

Gabe was not going to laugh at her, because he was nice. Or because she had witnessed him trip on his shoelaces earlier, and had the common sense not to start a fight he couldn't win. Whatever the reason, he was not going to laugh.

Her head be tilted backwards was really not going well with the beanie,

Seconds later, gravity won the battle, and she barely managed to catch the hat before it fell down.

Gabe snickered.

Tying his shoelaces together so he fell down again was immature and childish, and Kamala was definitely going to do it.

“Listen, all I’m saying,” Gabe said, putting his hands up in a surrendering motion, perhaps getting future shoelace sabotage vibes from her. “Is that maybe, just maybe, you don’t need THREE Captain Marvel beanies.”

“Ding dong, you’re wrong.” Kamala gave up trying to get her hat back on her head while still leaned over, and straightened up. “Captain Marvel is AWESOME.” She was really thankful she had made up with Carol, at least part way. Being angry at your heroes _sucked_. Her coffee cup was comforting in her hands, but severely impacting her ability to make her hat face the right way, so she set it reluctantly on the counter. “And don’t think I haven’t seen your Justice League posters. You don’t exactly hide them well.”

“I hide them just fine, thank you, you just have the uncanny ability to find the most embarrassing things I own in seconds.”

“They were literally on your wall behind a sheet.”

“That’s a great hiding place, come on!”

Kamala gave him a Look, and picked up her coffee cup again, hat firmly on her head. The warmth from the mug was comforting, chasing away a chill she hadn’t realized she felt. Jersey City had been unusually cold for this time of year, and it was not appreciated. Warm drinks had quickly became lifesavers. So had late start.

Late start was, after all, the reason she was here getting coffee with her sorta technically brother, and not passed out on her desk in Bio. Which was actually surprisingly comfy. For being a desk. Better for napping on than her desk in AP Gov, at least.

The coffee shop was mostly empty. A guy in a suit sat in the left corner, a family of three in the center, and a girl a bit younger then Kamala stood nearby. A cluster of people were in the doorway, a girl in a apron sat on a counter, phone in her hand. Probably an employee.

“One caramel latte,” The attendant who wasn’t sitting on a counter called out, setting Gabe’s drink down next to him. Gabe proceed to spin around, nearly fall down (again), and then thank her, eagerly taking a sip of the drink. Kamala didn’t laugh, because she was a mature, kind, person.

And became she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

 _Great_.

There were some things that had changed since she became a superhero. Sleep had became less of a priority, fireworks had became mental enemy number one, and she had learned to recognize the people she was a fan of in civilian clothing. Because they were now her friends.

It was late start. It was her off morning. She was supposed to spend it planning the next chapter of her fic mentally and teasing Gabe about his Justice League obsession that he hid _horribly_.

She was not supposed to run into Steve Rogers, _Captain America_ , in her local coffee shop. Especially not when she was a civilian. Because civilian her was a fangirl, and very open about that fact.

And civilian Kamala Khan would just about die when meeting Captain America. Ms. Marvel would not, because she had actually worked with the man and managed to tone down the hero worship, but Kamala Khan would.

Kamala _hated_ having a secret identity sometimes. This was going to be so _embarrassing_. 

Why was he even here? His haunting grounds were New York. Jersey City was not New York.

Knowing her luck, it was probably a world ending disaster that called him here.

She had barely been back for a week as Ms. Marvel, K.I.N.D. was already stirring up trouble, and there was a possible apocalyptic event on her hands.

Well, more on Cap’s hands then hers, but because he was in her city, it would probably become her problem as well.

She must’ve been too quiet for too long, trying to figure out the correct amount of _noooooo_ that was acceptable for this situation, because Gabe ended up following her line of sight.

“Wait,” He said slowly, hitting her with his elbow. A boy ran up to Cap. “Wait, is that?”

Cap exchanged a few words with the boy, smiled, and pulled out a pen to sign the hat the boy offered. 

“That’s Captain America.” Gabe said, breathless. “Oh my god, that’s Captain America.”

Of _course_ he recognized Cap.

Speechlessness. Pretend to be speechless. Figure out how you’re going to handle this.

Kamala let her jaw drop open in what hopefully looked like shock.

Gabe turned to look at her. “Kamala, Kamala, please don’t fall over and die. I get that it's exciting and all-”

“Don’t be rude,” She whispered. “I'm not going to die, you just might have to take me to the hospital because I think I’m having a heart attack.”

A year ago that would’ve been less of a joke, and more of something that was actually happening.

“Heart attacks count as falling over.” Gabe stage-whispered. 

“In about three seconds you are going to accidentally get shoved by me and learn what falling over really means.”

“You would bully me in front of Captain America?” Gabe froze. Paused. “Captain America is in the same room as I am. I am breathing the same air as Captain America.”

Kamala took a long slurp of her coffee. It would probably be best to let Gabe snap out of it on his own.

(It would probably be funniest to let Gabe snap out of it on his own.)

She took another sip of her drink, closed her eyes, and waited for Gabe to say something else.

And waited.

Kamala opened her eyes right as the coffee shop went strangely quiet. “Yeah, I know it’s pretty cool and-Gabe?”

Gabe wasn’t moving.

Not in the, oh no he’s collapsed on the ground way, but in the, oh no he’s standing strangely still way. In the, his eyes are only part way open way, and his hand is out, like he was going to empathize a point way. His mouth was open, like he was going to say something but-

He was frozen.

Kamala whipped her head around, looking over the coffee shop, and _everyone_ was frozen.

The employee sitting on the counter was mid-selfie, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. The younger girl who stood nearby had a ponytail holder in her hand, as if she was putting her hair up in a ponytail. But it wasn’t fully in a ponytail yet, and strands of bright red hair were literally hanging in the air, seemingly unaffected by gravity. The working employee was making a drink, but the milk hung in the air as well, as eerily as the hair did.

She stepped forward, not knowing what she was doing, and stopped mid step. Because-

Because-

She had been holding a coffee cup. She had been holding a coffee cup and now she wasn’t but she never set it down and-

She spun around, coming face to face with her frozen body.

What. The. Heck.

Panic settled in her gut and she jumped backwards, left hand blindly flailing out, searching for something, _anything_ to grab. Anything to latch onto, anything to reassure her that she was real and alive and-

Her hand went through the nearest table.

Her _hand_ went _through_ the _table_.

Kamala yanked her arm back as if it had been burned. The back of her mind dimly registered that a burn would probably be better than this.

There was just-

No way-

She swung around again, mentally begging for a explanation, a clue, and froze-

Well, not froze. She just stopped moving, but she was still very much alert.

Because-

Because-

She didn’t scream. She _couldn’t_ scream.

The _thing_ that was staring back at her looked like something out of a nightmare. Blinding white light emitted from it’s eye sockets, making her feel very, very small. 

It was revolting to look at. It’s cheeks were sunken in, the face looking more like a skull then anything vaguely alive. The thing was deathly pale, the almost waxy sheen on it’s skin making it look ghoulish and so past it’s expiration date. Blood dripped from two places in it’s chest, the unmistakable work of a gun. It’s mouth snarled, broken and bleeding, lips cut up beyond measure.

But that wasn’t the most horrifying thing about it.

Because it _wasn’t_ an it. It wasn’t a thing. 

It was… Steve?

[FEAR.]

“KAMALA!”

Kamala flinched backwards, blinked, and nearly proceeded to spill all of her coffee over herself.

Her coffee?

“Kamala, are you okay? I mean, I was joking with the whole dying thing, but you look kind of…”

What the-

Gabe’s face swam into view next to her. The coffee shop was noisy again. The employee was taking a different selfie, with her tongue no longer out. The milk was obeying gravity.

She was back in her body. She was holding her coffee.

“I’m fine,” She said quickly, the practiced lie coming out much too easily. Or just easily enough. Her left hand reached out again and grasped the counter, knees nearly going weak with relief as she caught it. She clenched her hand, feeling the unrelenting metal anchoring her. Reminding her that she was real. Alive.

Alive.

Kamala whipped her head sideways. Cap was standing with the group of people from before, and he was human. Not whatever that _thing_ had been. He was taking a selfie with the boy now, both grinning at the camera. His mouth was not bloody. 

“Just sorta overwhelmed,” She croaked out. She turned back to Gabe, her movements feeling robotic. Jerky. Slow. What had that been? A hallucination?

Her mind rebelled against that instantly. There was no way she could’ve dreamt something like _that_ up. But, what were the other options?

She swallowed reflectively, nausea churning in her gut.

“Alright,” Gabe said. He looked convinced, but still somewhat concerned. Kamala didn’t want to consider what the look on her face must’ve been. “I”m going to use the restroom. When I get back, if Captain America is still here and your little fangirl heart doesn’t overload when we get within five feet of him, we should say hi. See if we can snag a photo.”

Kamala nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her little fangirl heart was definitely going to overload, or something like that. Anything to avoid snagging a photo. There was no way she could go have a conversation with Cap right now, not when she still had that nightmare image coursing through her mind.

Nakia would’ve called her out for being weird and keeping something from her here. So would’ve Bruno. But Nakia wasn’t here, and Bruno was.

Well.

Gabe had met her after she became Ms. Marvel. At least ⅓ of their conversations had ended in her running off because of a supervillain of some sort. What counted as weirdness to her pre-Marvel friends was probably just Kamala being Kamala to him. 

(The world had stopped moving. Just _stopped_. Everything frozen in time.)

She shivered. It was warm inside the coffee shop.

Kamala forced herself to let go of the counter before she accidentally used too much strength and broke it. Letting go was harder than she thought it would be.

Possible apocalyptic event, check. Whatever that had been sure _looked_ apocalyptic. 

Her coffee suddenly didn’t taste as good as it used to.

She resisted the urge to gag as memories of _blackrot-blood-herhandbeingincorperal_ flash across her mind, like the world's worst highlight real.

The beanie was hot against her forehead, her bangs itchy, and her neck felt feverishly hot under her hair. 

(Those _eyes_. Staring at her, _through_ her.)

Kamala took another sip of her coffee.

She doubted she was going to get a nap in _any_ of her classes today. 

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings for hallucinations, bad coping methods, fake severe injuries, and violence that's canon typical for Red Robin. The violence is a little excessive for Ms. Marvel.
> 
> I have had this story in my mind for so long, I am THRILLED to finally have the first chapter out. Tim and Kamala are my all time favorites, so of course I had to write a story with them.
> 
> Canon does not exist here. Canon died long ago. This goes canon divergent after Red Robin 21 and Ms. Marvel 28, but adjustments have been made to the entire universe. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


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